


Put Me Back on the Line

by Fossarian



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dominance, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Sexual Content, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:32:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fossarian/pseuds/Fossarian
Summary: The boundaries of Kylo's control are tested every day. Rey is his biggest challenge yet.





	Put Me Back on the Line

Kylo’s life is one long exercise in control.

He’s never _really_ lost it, even when people think he has, because they wouldn’t have survived to tell the tale if he had. The whole fucking world wouldn’t survive it.

Sometimes he fantasizes about it, when he’s slipping, tired and worn out from the mind-games his mentors like to play in the name of improving him. He strays and those far-side whispers telling him _just let go_ get harder to ignore.

First time he’s with Rey is the first time he’s been this close to anyone without them trying to hurt him, and halfway through the whole thing he starts thinking about that, and not something, you know, _normal_ like how good her pussy feels or his name on her lips.

He leaves bruises on her thighs and the side of her neck, bold, black coins, and she doesn’t seem to hate him for it somehow, but he can’t look at her for a week.

He tries to be more careful, after that. The effort is exhausting and he knows people make jokes about his temper but he can’t bring himself to care when sometimes all he can think about is the color red _(of his lightsaber, of blood, of fire)_ and the soothing quiet of the night that comes with it.

He loves fighting. Loves the shatter and noise, the cauter of his saber into weak flesh. He has spent his life denying most of his natural impulses to achieve something greater, and this is one indulgence he just can’t seem to give up. He knows Rey doesn’t like this part of him, but even she can’t complain when this addiction is useful to her. And it helps with his control, a little.

After the first time, he tries to avoid her; sacrifice is his usual failsafe when the world starts to tip on its axis. Starve yourself long enough and suddenly that splinter in your thumb doesn’t seem as important. But she keeps catching him alone and literally throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck, forcing him down, and she’ll kiss him, or curve into him like a bow so that he can feel her breasts against his chest.

Little shivers run up his spine whenever she grabs him, adrenaline pumping through the _is this threat, not threat_ edit of his brain. She’ll press her lips to his and murmur, “C’mon, kiss me back,” until he does, until he has her pressed up to the nearest wall, one hand twisting in her hair and his knee shoving her legs apart.

She’s playing a dangerous game, but he doesn’t know how to tell her that. Doesn’t want it to end.

They share the same bed now, which isn’t an issue since he hardly sleeps anyway. He watches her taking a nap after their training session, her body supine on the bed and facing him, her arm tucked under her head. Her lips are slightly parted. He’s fascinated that anyone can sleep next to him.

Kylo wants to say he’d never hurt her, but he already has, and if the Force has shown him anything it’s that he’s only good for one thing. So he keeps his hands to himself.

He wonders if she ever dreams about him. If it’s nice dreams or the more real stuff of memory. He could look, of course, but she’s told him she doesn’t want him to do that without her permission. He gets it, kind of. He doesn’t care if she wants to go rooting through his mind, having lost any notion of privacy a long time ago.

Eventually he feels her begin to stir and her eyes flutter open. Still not quite awake, the corners of her mouth curve up at the sight of him, and Kylo can hardly believe it when she reaches one hand out and says, “What are you doing over there? Come lie next to me.”

He climbs across the bed and settles down next to her and she takes his hand, frowning at the leather encasing it. She pulls his glove off and entwines their fingers together and he has one last look at her red lips before they are on his own. He’s so busy focusing on the sensation of her tongue sliding along his, the little nip of her teeth on his bottom lip, that he almost forgets they’re still holding hands until she slides his fingers beneath the waistband of her pants.

She’s hot and wet down there and something snaps in Kylo like a twig, like bone. He pushes past the silky folds and curves his fingers deeper in, as far as he can go _\- it has to hurt, it has to, he didn’t mean to do that, he isn’t like that -_ but she only breaks contact with his mouth to gasp and arch her back so that she’s fully flush against him.

And Kylo is gone, just _gone._ He pulls his other glove off with his teeth and fists a handful of her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. He’s got her like that just so he can see each little twitch of her skin at his touch, liking the way she tries to turn her face to hide and can’t, his fingers still playing with her. Something vaguely sinister takes over him and he wants to hear her beg, wants her to _say_ she wants it. Wants him.

“Do you like this?” he asks. It’s a real question and when she doesn’t respond, he twists the handful of her hair, says, “Rey?”

“Yes,” she gasps, black, wet lashes lifting from her cheeks. Her eyes are darker than normal, a darkness Kylo will get lost in. “Will you -”

“Will I what?” He watches her writhe under his hands and when looking is not enough he moves over her so he can feel her small body squirm against his own. She’s a soft, liquidy pool against the steel chords of his muscle, her legs on either side of his hips opened so wide.

There’s a familiar push at the back of his neck, at the base of his spine. That urge to exert his absolute will on something until it bends or breaks in his hands. “Tell me,” he says. “You have to tell me.”

Because he has to be sure. The Force can be used to lie. But this feels real, the way she moans and opens her legs for him, rubbing her pussy along the hard line of his cock like she needs it and doesn’t care if it’s shameful. Kylo has an understanding of the mechanisms of bodies, how they respond to pain, how you’ll do anything to make it stop or go on. He doesn't understand this.

She scrunches her eyes and shakes her head, tendrils of her hair flying away and sticking to her face and throat. But it’s not a denial, at least not to him. Her cheeks flush bright as she says, “I want you to f-fuck me.”

The tumbled declaration makes her blush even more, even though she’s surely heard worse. Maybe she’s embarrassed to admit she desires him.

But it’s all Kylo needs. He shoves her pants down just enough to expose the small, pink vee of her cunt and she tries to lift her ass to help him, but he’s already pushing her legs apart, pushing in. She sinks back on the bed with this shocked little gasp - _even though she’d asked for this, had to have known he’d take it here, he’s not that strong_ \- and if she’d asked him to stop now Kylo honestly doesn’t know if he would.

She doesn’t ask, though. She’s done asking and she just rides out the waves shuddering through her and clings to him as though cast adrift in a storm. He loosens his grip in her hair and curves his fingers around her throat, doesn’t tighten them, he just wants to feel them there, feel her pulse, and think about all the things he never lets himself do.

“Kylo,” she gasps. He half-jerks his hand away, guilt pouring over him like a cold shower, but when she opens her eyes there’s no fear, just that dark, dark of her eyes.

He’s never loved his name more than when it’s coming from that bitten mouth. There’s bright red blossoms appearing on her throat, blossoms that will deepen to purple and yellow, that should inspire shame but all he can think is a clear and savage _good_. The thought sends him tipping over the edge and then he’s not thinking about anything, lost in a haze where even Rey is gone.

When he comes back to himself Rey is holding him with her thin arms and he thinks about how he could snap them if he wanted to, wouldn’t even need the Force to do it, and how strange the secure effect of them are. She’s so warm and smells like clean, sweet things that Kylo’s never known and there’s a sense that he shouldn’t be touching this creature, sullying her with his perversions.

“Shh, shh,” she says and he doesn’t remember saying anything but he lets her go on, his body drained of the will to resist. She plants little kisses on his temple and slides her fingers through his hair in a way that makes Kylo’s eyes feel heavy.

She’s still a snap of energy beside him, makes contented little hums and quivers beneath him, her fingers working slow, soothing circles into his skin. As for Kylo he is just happy to be empty for once. Free of it all, if only for a few minutes.

He knows it won’t last. What’s left of his conscience will prick at him with stubborn needles until he hates what he’s done, how he’s hurting her, and the angry reds of the world will wash before his eyes again.

But for now… for now there is just this, Rey’s gentle caresses, so soft like he’s something fragile or very valuable, and her voice in his ear saying, “You’re so tired, go to sleep. It will be fine.”

It’s probably not peace, but it’s the closest Kylo has ever gotten.


End file.
